Three years

Ah yes, and so it has come, the email. When you embark on a PhD there is an initial flurry of interest on the part of the university, mainly to ensure you have paid all your fees, filled out your scholarship forms, and been told how to sit correctly in your office chair. They spend a bit of time explaining how this whole PhD thing works, drag in some senior students to tell you all about it, and then, nothing. You're on your own. Apart from the fortnightly bank statement telling you your scholarship payment has arrived, and an annual letter informing you that according to the university's records, you are indeed still a university student, that's about it. No "hi, how's it goin'?", or "what have you been up to?" emails. Not even a Christmas card. Nothing. Then, three years down the track, after all the trials and tribulations, journal club meetings, conferences, lab visits, seminars, pub sessions and introductory yoga classes, an email arrives.

Dear Chris,
remember us. We're the Australian National University and your time is nearly up! If you're a slack arse student who won't be finished in time, fill out this form to beg for our mercy.

yours,
ANU
ps. merry Christmas


You see, in theory, a PhD is supposed to take three years. There is a legend often told at the Uni house pub on Friday's, and in the tea rooms of many a research lab, that once upon a time, somewhere, a PhD thesis was submitted in three years. No one knows his or her name, or what the topic was, but I suspect they studied at The University of Fairy Land, where supervisors have inifinite time to talk with you, trained monkeys run your experiments, and ready to submit PhD theses grow on trees. The fact is, despite the university's admirable attempts to put some curry in the PhD sauce, and get students to complete quickly, very few achieve this. Why is this you ask ?

Well, for those not familiar with the wonderous world of the PhD degree, let me explain. A PhD in its classical form, has little to do with lectures, exams, lab classes, semesters, prescribed text books and to be honest, anything else you probably attribute with a university undergrad degree. It is a student, a desk, and the none too small task of coming up with something that prior to your work, was not known, designed, created or explained before. You do get some help though. A supervisor for one, who can be quite useful, although less effective as you progress and realise after a couple of years that you know more about your topic than they do (this is expected by the way). You also have hundreds of papers, articles and other forms of media that provide a seemingly endless supply of material that may or may not be related to what you're doing. Of course, the relevance and accuracy of this material varies, and so a significant amount of time is spent trying to sift through and find papers of use to you, while at the same time hoping not to find something so useful as to render your own work obsolete. It can be as frightening as it is enlightening.

The summary of all of this is that tangible outcomes can be few and far between, and in general, the structureless nature of the degree means much of the motivation to get work done, work that is often highly brain intensive and not particularly enticing on a Friday afternoon (or any afternoon for that matter), must come from within. Of course, choosing an interesting topic to begin with definitely helps this. Although, this is also akin to choosing a song you really like, and playing it over, and over, and over again ... for four years. Sometimes you just wish you could skip to the next track.

This probably all sounds very negative, but it is somewhat ironic that the one thing that causes much of the stress and pain associated with a PhD, is also the one huge motivator to keep going with it ... intellectual freedom. An academic once told me that he really envied his PhD students, and yearned for the time he spent as a PhD student (admittedly it had probably been at least twenty years since he completed his, giving him ample time to forget the pain). What he missed most was the opportunity a PhD offered to emerse himself so thoroughly, and without obstruction, in an intellectual interest. To spend day upon day researching a topic that genuinely excited him, with a real purpose, was a luxury he had not experienced to the same degree since. I remember telling myself I should talk to this guy more often - I hadn't felt this motivated since getting my pen license.

So three years in, and I am happy to say that I am still pretty excited about the work I am doing. Equally though, I have never been more motivated to get on with things, and get this thesis out the door. Like the vast majority of those before me, I will be applying for an extension, otherwise I would have to pull out the most productive February on record. I'm motivated, but not that motivated.

In any case, it's nice to hear from the University after all these years. I look forward to hearing from them again. Probably in 6 months time.

A new perspective for a new year

For probably the first time since arriving back from Italy, things are starting to feel a little 'normal'. It's hard to pin point why things are now starting to feel more normal. It could be the recent acquisition of some desperately needed furniture. It could be that both Aff and I are back at work with a routine somewhat resembling the one we had before leaving Canberra. It could be that we are able to share the cooking again (circumstances in Italy meant that Aff had to take on most of the cooking), or, it could be the very welcome return of our cat after nearly 12 months spent in Kerang. Probably a little of all these things I guess. However, I say things are "a little normal" quite deliberately. There is much of our lives thatis not yet as it was. Upon thinking about this over the last few days, I realise that we are at an interesting cross-roads, and with a great opportunity to examine the things that make us satsified, content and most importantly, happy.

It has been sometime since I last found myself in a situation where I had virtually no commitments. Prior to leaving Canberra last year for Italy, finding a night or weekend free was like discovering gold in a long forgotten river. It was very precious indeed. Once discovered, however, it had to be kept very quiet, or stoutly defended. This period was a strange mix of high satisfaction and deep felt tiredness and stress. I involved myself in a range of activities and groups, and explored different areas of interest I would not have thought to explore before coming to Canberra. Being involved in all these things brought me a great sense of self worth, which served as a great motivator, as did making new friends, and finding a sense of place and purpose here in Canberra. On the other hand, these noble pursuits also caused significant strain on myself, and my home life through the all consuming nature in which I often take things on. I was constantly filling gaps of time with things to do, and events, social or otherwise, to attend. Feeling self worth is obviously a very positive mind state to have. Feeling tired, strung out and resentful at the same time suggests the way I was going about things was probably not quite right.

And so here I am, 10 months later, with a rare opportunity to re-examine my priorities. A few things are different now. For one, this should be my last year as a PhD student, and so the Mt Everest like task of writing a thesis looms large. This alone is enough reason to slow things down in other aspects of my life. Secondly, I am married now, and as I wrote when in Italy, this has, somewhat surprisingly, re-jigged some of my priorities. Thirdly, a new appreciation for home (or at least, the realisation that its ok to do so). Seven roller coaster months in Italy, and two months of reflection since has brought about a new perspective on what makes me truly happy and content. Nothing more so, it seems, than sitting in my own backyard with a coffee, and the newspaper. This change of mindset is the most recently realised since arriving back in Canberra (unsurprisingly coinciding with finding a nice new place to live). I have always considered myself a bit of a home-body in denial, constantly trying to fight off this perceived reclusive, anti-social desire, or at least trying to justify time spent at home by filling the days around it with activities to balance the equation. This, I now realise, does not really work for me, and more importantly, is not really necessary.

This new perspective first came out during the house hunting phase. My usual determination to find a place "close to the action" was being strongly out weighed by the desire to find a place with lots of space, and a backyard worthy of sitting in (with coffee/beer and newspaper). The possibility of having a decent veggie patch was also secretly high on the assessment scale. The place we chose most certainly reflects the latter considerations than it does the former. After nearly four weeks living here, there are no regrets about our slightly more outer suburban existence.

While I have realised a desire for more "home time", I have also identified that my need to "get out of the house" does not simply stem from me wanting to fight my natural state. Quite the contrary in fact, which I am relieved to say. Upon thinking about the the motivations behind the things I do, I realise that I have a very strong desire to connect with people. I used to fear that if I gave into my natural desires, I would become a recluse, and not want to talk to anyone. This, I now know is not true at all, and in fact, if I allow myself the time to myself I need, I soon crave connectedness. I now realise that craving connectedness is a far healthier state than living in constant fear of its non-existence. It's not really rocket science, but it's always an eye-opener to examine the underlying motivators, and assumptions behind the things we choose to do with our lives.

With all this in mind, I am very much looking forward to what I hope will be a significantly more balanced, and ultimately more relaxed and measured approach to life in 2008. As for what I do with my spare time, not really sure, a couple of things I'm sure ... but then again, what's the rush?

One minute

A minute is probably the smallest unit of time for which something can change significantly in day to day life. The total running time of an Olympic sprinter over 100 metres, from the first heat through to the final takes less time. A thunderstorm can give way to a bright sunny day in a matter of seconds. A slice of bread in the toaster can go from white to charcoal without notice. A lot can happen in one minute.

Sitting contently in the sun at a campsite near Dargo, my only concern was how I was going to fit hours of blissful nothingness into a day already devoted to completing a larger than usual crossword. Two of my fellow campers, with two young children, had decided they were going to spend the day going for a drive up the river that passed through our campsite. With my schedule already full, I was quite happy to pass on the offer to join them. My thoughts seemed to be shared by Aff, and Mick and Mel, who like me, were lounging lazily in the sun with no apparent desire to change the situation. Then came a suggestion:

"If you want, I can take you guys up river and you can lilo back?"

A minute later, our tranquil state of idleness transformed to a flurry of activity as bathers were put on, suncream applied, and lilos blown up. Within another minute the campsite was deserted, as we all piled in the back of the 4WD and headed off up the river. With 6 adults, two children and two lilos in the car, conditions seemed more akin to images of crowded bus journeys in India (minus the chickens) than to a pleasant drive though the Australian bush. After 20 minutes, we stopped at a point deemed to be fit for launching our lilo crusade.

With two lilos between four of us, it was two to a lilo. Aff and I took possession of our trusty ship, ignored the obligatory warning stating that this sturdy air-filled floatation device, is in a fact not a flotation device at all, and launched ourselves into the river. After some discussion, we opted for a two person abreast configuration, with the lilo's longest side perpendicular to our direction of motion, and our mid sections draped across the width of the lilo. This meant our arms and legs were submerged on either side of the lilo, allowing us to manoeuvre (or so we hoped). Mick and Mel were already in the water, and had adopted a similar configuration, and so we began our pleasant, relaxing float down river.

A minute passed by, and the speed of the current began to increase. In the distance, the sound of rushing water could be heard. It was clear that our pleasant river meandering was about to go up a gear or two. The sudden increase in speed was disconcerting enough, but the sudden appearance of rocks just under the surface of the water was what truly concerned me. While the lilo provided buoyancy, it did not keep my "big-boned" body mass above water. This was confirmed when the first of many rocks passed underneath me, threatening to end the family line then and there. In a vein attempt to protect my interests, I tried to push my body further up onto the lilo. This also allowed me to reach further into the water with my arms, which I hoped could be used as a buffer against incoming rocks. This was proving to be somewhat effective, although as I looked forward, I could see there was worse to come. Several large boulders lay waiting in the middle, and to the right of the river. This caused the water to rush to the left, and then down a gradual drop of about a metre. The drop was not large, but the combined forces of gravity, and the increased water pressure from the bottleneck created by the boulders, made for quite a rush of water. Adding to my concern was the further shallowing of the water due to a large collection of smaller rocks underneath the surface as the river dropped. With only moments to decide what to do, some quiet negotiations between Aff and I resulted in a decision to take it on, but to stop if things got a bit too intense.

I started paddling to position the lilo, largely to no avail. I soon realised that the strong river current had its own ideas about where to position us, and the only way to have any impact on our trajectory was to try and use the rocks underneath the water. With this in mind, I stopped paddling and instead extended my arms out in front of us. As I raised my hands to just above water level, I noticed a silvery gold flicker of light from my left hand. Sitting perilously close to the tip of my ring finger was my wedding ring. I was concerned how easily this usually snug fitting ring had made its way to the tip of my finger. I was equally concerned about how easily I was able to push it back down to its usual position (marked clearly by the 9 month old tan line it had created). My skin had clearly shrivelled up in the water, allowing the ring to move more freely. Unfortunately, with no where to put the ring, I was forced to continue with the ring on my finger. Thinking myself fortunate to have discovered this risk early enough to prevent it, I told myself to make sure I kept a constant check on it. Just as this thought registered, our lilo began the pass through the rapids to the left of the boulders. I could see ahead that Mick and Mel had already managed to negotiate this section, although it was clear from their bobbing heads that the pass was not a smooth one.

I extended my arms out, just under the surface of water with the palms of my hands facing forwards. Instantly I began to feel rocks crashing into my hands, and while I tried to push off the rocks to avoid them passing underneath us, my off centred position meant this only served to rotate the lilo. After a couple of big hits, the lilo had rotated a full 180 degrees, and so we were now travelling feet first and backwards into the unknown. With anxiety levels high, Aff and my only thoughts were to try and stop ourselves. I desperately tried to grab onto rocks in an attempt to anchor ourselves, but this would cause the lilo to dip into the water, allowing the strong current to push against it's surface. With the awkward position of the lilo, Aff began to lose grip. Seeing the futility of trying to stop, I ceased attempting to hold on to the rocks, and simply let the current take us. Aff and I both raised our legs and feet as high as we could in the water, so as to avoid the rocks below. While this probably helped, it didn't stop a number of rocks grazing our knees and thighs as we passed over the remainder of the rapid section. Within a minute of entering the rapids, we were through, and back in significantly calmer, though quite fast flowing water.

After a moment silently recollecting ourselves, Aff raised her left hand from the water. Whether she intended to check her ring or not, the flickering light from the two rings forming her wedding ring quickly caught her attention. Like my ring earlier, she noticed that they had crept up her finger.

"Ooh, almost lost my rings", she said with some surprise, having not noticed how close I had come to losing mine a couple of minutes earlier.

I looked at her rings, and agreed, thinking to myself how lucky I was to have discovered this risk before the rapids. With that thought, I raised my left hand to inspect my own treasured possession. Few emotions I have experienced could compare to that which I felt at this moment. As I stared at my left ring finger, all I could see was a band of pale white skin surrounded by the tanned exposed skin of my ring finger. Within a minute of consciously telling myself to not lose my wedding ring, I had gone and lost my wedding ring.

After a couple of seconds of shock, followed by a couple more seconds of expletives, I desperately began to paddle to the river's left bank. Aff joined the paddle, and soon we were out of the strong current, and into an eddy that had formed just after the rapid section. Placing our lilo on the river bank, we then began to force our bodies against the current, back towards the section where I had almost certainly lost the ring. This had to be where I was trying to grab hold of the rocks. Unfortunately, this was also where the water was fastest, and conditions were most dangerous. It took some minutes to get there as the current began to intensify. During the struggle, it was becoming increasingly clear that there was next to no chance of finding the ring. While I ignored this thought for a while, the inevitability of the situation began to sink in. We were soon joined by Mick and Mel, who had both returned to the scene after finding out what had happened. Being in company, I tried my best to keep my emotions in check, something I almost certainly wouldn't have done had it just been Aff and me. I was sad, I was angry, I was shocked, confused, and embarrassed. I was devastated. One minute I had a ring, the next I did not.

We did attempt to find the ring, but the fast moving water, and slippery rocks made it next to impossible. After a token ten minutes of searching, we gave up, and after some recuperation time, resumed our float down the river. As it turned out, numerous rapid sections lay waiting for us in the 2 hours of river cruising that remained, a couple even more intense than the first. Truth be told, my ring probably didn't stand a chance of making it to the end. Of course, hindsight is a wonderful thing, and clearly I should never have worn my ring to start with. Maybe, but I doubt many would have done differently. The fact is, it was a random event, and despite all my attention to the risk I had identified only seconds before, there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. One minute I had a ring, the next minute I did not. A lot can happen in one minute.

G'day Australia

25 degrees ... perfect blue sky. In Healesville. Sitting on a veranda. Cracking open the third VB of the arvo. Eating a sausage in bread. Smelling burning gum leaves from the burn off. Listening to the Melbourne cup. A dog humping my leg. As first days back in Australia go, this one wasn't bad!

It is now been just over a week since we arrived back, and I must say, it's very good to be home. Leaving Italy was a bit sad, and felt just a little premature as we sat on the train heading for the airport. To be honest though, since coming back and embarking on the "Aff'n'Chris magical tour of South East Australia" as we say hello to family and friends, it's really good to be home. The two most common questions Aff and I have been asked by people are: 1. How was Italy ? 2. What's it like to be home ? Question 1 is difficult to give anything like a genuinely correct answer to, at least in the time frame that the person asking the question would probably want. Aff and I seem to be giving different answers every time we get asked it, so clearly we are not quite sure "how Italy was" either. Our short answer at the moment is: Italy was good. The second question though, is my favourite. The answer to it also gives some hints to our answer to the first question as well.

"So what is it like to be back?" I hear you ask. The wannabe worldly traveller in me wants to say how much I miss Italy, how much I miss the culture, the travelling, the food, the language, and of course, the people. To be honest though, the prevailing emotion at the moment is one of relief and comfort. To be back in my own culture, speaking my own language, driving my own car on roads I know, through the familiar dry Australian country-side almost feels like a luxury. In many ways for me, coming home is one of the best parts of the travelling experience. Of course the novelty factor will wear off soon enough, and my daily routine will resume. I expect it will be sometime after this that my thoughts will drift back to Italy, and start to really miss some of the things we got familiar with over there. I will certainly miss the good people we met over there (I already do), the food, the ability to travel so freely. I think Aff and I will both miss the language as well. We both made progress with it, and I felt like I had discovered a whole new part of my brain I had never tapped into before. All these things I expect we will miss more and more as time goes on, and when the memories of all the difficulties we also had to face fade.

So, for the moment at least, it feels good to be home .. very good in fact. As for Italy, to say "it was good" is a gross understatement .. it was a lot more than good ... it was amazing, and I am so lucky to have had the chance to live there, if only briefly.

Arrivederci Italia! Ci vediamo a presto!

What a week! Sitting here at an "internet point" in Rome, being charged €3 an hour for the priveledge, doesn't really provide the ideal time (or environment) to post a summary of all the events that have taken place. The short story is that Aff and I have successfully managed to extract ourselves from our Genovese life, and are now in Rome with three days left in Italy before we head back to Melbourne. As expected, the days leading up to yesterday's departure were as hectic as ever.

We have sent a shipping container of crap (well, maybe not all crap ... my €5 leaning tower mug from Pisa is pretty precious) back to Oz, and packed the rest of our humble belongings into 5 of the most unsuitable bags for travelling (we ditched the suitcase because it weighs too much). No doubt we are still over the weight limit, but there is not much else we can do.

Certainly, the highlight of the last week in Genova has been the goodbye celebrations with friends we have made here. Saturday night was a pizza dinner, followed by drinks at our favourite bar in Genova, Le Lepre. It really felt a bit like an episode of "This is your life (in Genova)", with so many of the people we have met here in Genova, there to celebrate with us. Needless to say, I had a bit of a biggy (I don't know what was in that last cocktail you bought me Richard, but it was the killer punch!).

Sunday was an understandably quieter day, although Aff and I, along with some friends, did manage to finally get to the soccer to watch Genoa fight bravely against the much stronger Fiorentina (from Tuscany) in Italy's Series A. No goals were scored by either teams, but I am very glad we managed to get to a game before leaving. It truly is an Italian experience worth making time for (photos to come) .... and completely safe by the way !

Finally, on Tuesday night, after a somewhat exhausting day spent saying my goodbyes to people at work, and finalising the hand over of my work, we had one final goodbye drinks session at Le Lepre. I must admit, after rushing home from work to pack, and after Aff's exhasting day of organising the mailing of our belongings home, and the cleaning of our apartment (I think I had the better deal to be honest) , both of us were thinking we may have been a tad ambitious organising one last drinks session. After arriving at Le Lepre however, I instantly felt like it was a very good decision. There is nothing like a few beers (in my case, about 6 pints from memory), to get over the awkward goodbyes, and just let the emotions run free. There was hugging, and kissing (on bith cheaks of course), and at one point a rather unexpected grope (not even sure who from). It was the kind of goodbye that truly made me feel like we have connections in this town, and some friends that we will really want to keep in touch with.

This, in fact, has been a realisation I have had over the last two weeks leading up to our departure. As the day got closer, my keeness to get back to Australia seemed to diminish substantially. Of course, Aff and I are both very much looking forward to getting home and seeing everyone... but with unfinished PhD's, and house hunting awaiting us, it's not exactly an enticing prospect. Once the initial excitement of being home fades (probably sometime after our 2 week whirl wind tour of SE Australia, when we arrive back in Canberra), I expect a significant slump in our moods to occur. There is a lot to miss here (but equally, a lot to gain back in Australia). So yes, I expect we will miss this place a lot, but I equally expect (hope) that as we get settled back in Canberra, life will start to feel normal again. Who knows? ... it's all part of the adventure I guess, and if there is anything I have learnt from my time in Italy, it is to expect nothing, and be ready for anything!

Arrivederci Italia!! Ci vediamo a presto!!

l'ultima settimana a Genova

And so begins the last week in Genova. This time next week, we will most likely be on a train, heading south to Rome. Well, actually, it's equally likely that we will be standing on a platform, waiting for our train to Rome, which will undoubtedly be running an hour late .. but that's all part of the adventure. To be honest, with no pressing schedule in Rome, I wouldn't mind if the train were late. More time to soak up this place.

With 7 days left, so begins the week of "lasts". Today, for example, is my last "Mercoledi`" (Wednesday) here at work. Ahh Mercoledi`, I'll miss you! I'll miss the evening Italian lessons you gave me, and the volleyball.

Far more significant than last goodbyes to days of the week, however, is last goodbyes to friends I have made here. Last night was the first, where I said goodbye to Ryo, a Japanese researcher who has just embarked on a two week trip to Taiwan. Today I say goodbye to another good friend, Enrico, who is off to the States for a month or so.

I don't pretend to have made a whole lot of life long mates here in Genova. For a quiet guy like me, these sorts of friendships usually take at least 6 months to develop. Having said this, I have met a few people (like the above mentioned people), who I know I will keep up with, and most importantly, I will see again at some point. It makes me feel good to know I am going home with these genuine connections to Genova. It makes me feel like I actually did live here, if only briefly.

I can't say I am one for goodbyes. Quite frankly, I find them a little awkward and tiring. If it were socially acceptable to just leave a note, and jump on a train, I probably would. Not because I don't want to say goodbye, just because that would be easier, and less awkward. I never know what to say, and anything I do say makes me cringe when I think about it later. Of course, we won't just leave a note and leave! Aff and I will do something, probably smallish. Whatever we do, I am sure it will be a nice send off, and a great way to finish our time here in Genova.

Ridiculous!

Like most people, I have made some pretty ridiculous decisions in my life. Perhaps none more so than yesterday's decision to play soccer with a bunch of Italians. It was, in fact, my third time playing, although it had been some months since I last played. I am not quite sure what improvement I expected to magically appear in my game after three months, but whatever ability I thought I had, was instantly nullified in the first 2 minutes. There are few sweeping generalisations one can make about Italians (or any culture for that matter), but it would be fair to say that Italian men are generally pretty good at soccer ... and a fair percentage of them are really good. It would also be fair to say that 9 out of the 10 blokes from my workplace here in Genova, who played soccer last night .. were really good. The other bloke, me, filled the role of the awkward Aussie, introducing his own unique brand of football - randomness. After the first 10 minutes, I realised that my best tactic was simply to let the ball bounce off my legs, rather than to try and kick it.

There was noticeable frustration from my four team mates, who prior to my late arrival, were up, 6 : 3. We lost the game 7 : 9. And no, the 7th goal had nothing to do with me (unless you count the fact that I stayed well away from the ball when the goal was kicked).

It truly was a ridiculous idea .. but another "must" on my list of Italian experiences.

leaving and returning

It is always a bit of a strange feeling in the weeks before leaving a place you have spent a significant amount of time in. That is certainly how it feels at the moment. The "mixed feelings" cliche` seems to fit pretty well. I am as comfortable and familiar with my environment as I have been since arriving, which is not so surprising. On the other hand, my head is already half back in Australia, and ticking over the many tasks, challenges and choices that await Aff and I when we get back. I, of course, am trying to keep my mind in Italy as much as I can. I want to soak up as much of this fascinating place as possible. Since arriving, not a single day has gone by that I haven't looked around and just wondered how the hell my life managed to rock up here. Craziness! This daydreaming is usually interrupted abruptly by the sound of a scooter passing me within a couple of inches, forcing me to suddenly side step into three day old dog shit which, next to discovering 13th century gothic churches down dingy alleyways, is another common "experience" in Genova. Maybe not a particularly nice one, but all part of the experience nonetheless.

Of course, while trying to take these things in, the realities of going home are hard to ignore. Practical issues such as packing and sending things home, not to mention the million dollar/euro question of "where the hell are we gonna live ?", can quickly overwhelm. Inevitably Aff and I talk a lot about these issues in the evening, which always feels a bit strange and foreign after a day spent in such a different place as Genova. On the other hand, these same thoughts are a source of excitment as well. Aff and I are looking forward to coming home. Our existence in Italy has been an exciting one, but also a temporary one, and the desire to "get on with things" (whatever that means?) has grown over the course of our time here. In someways I see this as the most significant change in me over the course of my time here. I don't really know why. It could equally be attributed to being married. I suspect it's a little of both.

It's difficult to express these thoughts because there is always the risk of exagerating the importance, and significance of such experiences. In the end, we've spent 7 months in Italy, seen a lot of different things, met a lot of good people, eaten a lot of pizza, and drank a lot of vino ... not so different to home really! but it sure feels like it is.

from Verona to Venice

With three weeks left, Aff and I have become tourist machines. In the last month we have taken in Lucca ( a beautiful little Tuscan town, near Pisa), the Vale d'Aosta (Italian alpine country, up in the North West corner), and we have just returned from a 4 day trip that took in Verona and Venice. Trying to keep up with all this on the blog has been quite simply impossible. So, for the moment at least, I pick and choose.

Our trip to Venice was quite deliberately timed to be one of our last hoorahs in the North of Italy before we head south, and home. With Terry flying in from London, this was also the last chance to see my best mate before heading back home. The trip was an absolute highlight of my time here.

Verona was beautifully tranquil, although not without it's fair share of tourists. Verona's two biggest claims to fame are it's famous Roman ampitheatre (the Arena), which plays host to a much anticipated out door Opera season every year, and Shakespear's choice of Verona as the city in which Romeo and Juliet was set. I'm sure it has plenty of other claims to fame as well, but for the travel weary (which I must admit, I am a little), much of these details get missed.

And then Venice. Nothing I can say can do it justice. The photos are coming, I assure you. It is quite simply stunning. You pay for it of course, particularly if you stay on the Island as we did. Even so, to have had three uninterrupted days of playing in this maze of canals and lane ways felt like a luxury worth paying for. Don't believe anyone who suggests you can do Venice in a day. Two days at least!

Venice is like a medievil playground. You just wander around, get lost, eat, drink wine, and take a sh%@ load of photos while you're at it. Sure, you can do the whole Gondala thing, if you have 70 euro to burn, but just watching these boys do their stuff from the side lines is impressive, and satisfying enough (though I must admit, I was a little tempted).

And on top of all this, the company. Venice is best enjoyed with your partner, or good friends. I therefore had the best of both world's, with my wife, and my best mate to play with. It was a great trip, and a fanastic way to start the count down to our final three weeks here in Italy.

Take a stroll from casa Aff'n'Chris

Casa Aff'n'Chris - our apartment is on the ground floor (the windows behind Aff are ours)

walking on our street, in the opposite direction to the last photo.



and so begins the descent (much better leaving home than coming back!)

still walking on our "street" (more like a stair case really), towards Via Garibaldi (at the bottom of the stairs)

and onto Via Garibaldi, and into Genova's "centro storico".


I never get sick of walking out our front door!

Notte Bianco - un'altra bella festa

The festivals just keep on coming, each relentlessly offering more opportunities to sample new food, drink more wine, and soak up more cultural experiences. Last Saturday Genova had it's night of nights, the "Notte Bianco" (white night). There is no deep historical story, patron saint, or crop harvesting that motivates the Notte Bianco, it's just a big street party - and big it was. At midnight, over 700,000 people were apparently packed into the streets of Genova. That, in itself is impressive enough, but it's even more impressive when you consider that Genova's population is only 600,000. Of course, mention this to a Roman, or a Milanese, and they will waste no time in telling you how small and pathetic this is in comparison with their own notti bianci. In any case, Genova's capacity was well and truly exceeded, to the point of rediculousness at times, so 700,000 pathetic attendees seemed like more than enough for me.

Aff and I met up with a few other friends from my work, and spent the night wandering the streets. Many of Genova's most significant piazzas played host to all kinds of entertainment, from medievil reenactments, to the all too familiar sounds of cheesy Italian pop (thank God Italy doesn't enter eurovision .. it just wouldn't be a fair contest). We watched fire works down at the port, danced in the streets, all the while keeping ourselves well and truly at cruising level with molta birre, e rum con red bull. The idea, after all, was to party all night.

One of the more interesting, and unique opportunities of the night, was the possibility of visiting one of Genova's main tourist attractions, The "Acquario di Genova" (the Aquarium). Open until 5.30am, and offering half price entry, and a free breakfast at the end of the night, this was very high on my priority list. Aff and I had not visited the Aquarium, much to the disgust of locals we dare admit this to (though we attempt to disperse this disapointment by explaining that we haven't even visited Melbourne's aquarium). As such, a half price, 5am visit to a major Genovese attraction seemed like a perfectly good idea. Leaving ourselves a questionable 45 minutes before official closing time, Aff and I said our "buona notte's" to our friends (who didn't seem to be as keen on a late night aquarium visit), and joined the back of a queue of around 20 or so others. The line was moving steadily, and all seemed perfectly in place for us to cap off a great night among the fish - that is, until 5am, when we had reached the front of the queue, only to watch the shutters of the ticket window close before us. And there we stood, along with our fellow queue dwellers, staring in bemusement at the closed window.

There are many things I admire about the "Italian way". None more so than there complete self assurity and belief that there is always a way to achieve something, despite all evidence to the contrary. Sure, the ticket window was closed, and there was not sign of an aquarium employee to be found, but this did not stop them (and by association, Aff and I) from walking from the ticket booth, to the stairs leading up to the aquarium. A security guard awaited us. It was pretty clear that the security guard was under strict instructions to not allow anyone in. It was equally clear that the security guard had no clout with the establishment, and was not going to be able to fight on our behalf. This, however, did not stop some of the more vocal Italians in our group (about 18 of the 20 of us) from explaining at length, and with full Italian hand gestures at work, what injustice this was to shut us all out. Interestingly, the security guard did seem to be quite happy to engage in the dialogue. Aff and I watched, waiting to see if we were about to witness some great insight into the way Italian society works. Would the people have there way ? Would we walk gloriously into the aquarium, see our fish, and devour our well deserved free breakfast ?

About 10 mninutes later, the police turned up, and we were asked to leave, and so we all did.

After a sneaky kebab from our favourite late night out kebab shop, and a 10 minute walk home, Aff and I were nicely tucked up in bed by 5:45am.

Un'altra bella festa in Italia!

Now for some photos. You may get a sense that the evening had two distinct phases...

An eye-full of Eiffel

London to Genova (via Paris and the Swiss Alps)

Aff and I have just returned from two weeks "in vacanza", starting from London, then Paris, and finally Switzerland. It truly has been one of the most memorable and exciting trips I have done.

From catching up with good friends in London (thanks again to the good folk at Balham Castle for putting us up for 4 nights!), to strolling the streets of Paris, before hiking in the most stunning alpine country I have ever seen in Switzerland, this holiday truly had it all. Of course, all the way, Aff and I were stuffing ourselves silly with beer, wine, cheese, bread, roasts of the day, cheese fondue .. not to mention Terry's "fabuloso" Indian feast on our last night in London. Basically, I made it my mission to eat anything that wasn't pasta, or pesto. Never has a cornish pasty purchased at a dodgy London railway station kiosk tasted so good.

Now we are back in Genova, with two months left before we head home. It was a strange sensation coming back to Genova after two weeks away from the place. I don't think Aff or I have reached the point of saying we feel like Genova is home, but there was certainly a nice sense of familialarity about the place when we got off the train and walked back to our apartment. While Genova is probably not a place I would want to live long term for a variety of reasons, it does feel significantly more comfortable than it did.

I plan on posting a lot of photos over the next few weeks, as we extract those worthy of showing. I also have a serious back log of photos to post .. so don't expect any order to things (which to be honest, is perfectly representative of what life has been like since we got here).

Summer in Genova

As usual, the frequency of posting on my blog is inversely proportional to the busy-ness of life at the moment. With internet access only at work, and a growing need to actually do work, while at work, it has been difficult to find time to post much. The short summary of life at the moment is, things are good. It's summer time, and even better, it's vacanza time! It's an interesting time because Italian cities really do seem to just empty out. In Genova, the traffic conjestion normally associated with Genovese people trying to get to work, is replaced by traffic conjestion in the opposite directio, normally due to those "f%&^ing" Milanese", as one friend told me, who come to Genova in their thousands to catch ferries to Corsica, Sardegna, Tunisia, Spain, France ... probably Australia for all I know.

It's a good time to be in Genova. With so many people on vacation, things feel calmer and more comfortable for people like Aff and me, who generally crave the quieter life. It's also good because I think Genova enjoys the best weather of any Italian city in summer. I was told that Genovese summer's can be quite brutal - particularly because of the humidity, which was described to me as stiffling. Things might be a little muggy here, but I really have not experienced anywhere near the discomfort that people told me to expect .. but then again, having spent some time in Singapore, I may have a slightly broader scale on which to assess humidity. In truth, Genova's weather is close to perfect. While the rest the country swelter's in 35+ temperatures, Genova seems to stick to the high 20's. At night it dips down to the low 20's - just cool enough to get some sleep.

As for travel, Aff and I have chalked up quite a few destinations over the last month. Lake Como, Cinque Terre (yes, again -- our 4th visit I think, but it is only an hour away), and Florence. All deserve there own report, or at least some photos (to come, I promise).

Aff is currently away in Sardegna on her own adventures until next week. After that, both of us take off for 2 weeks to London, Paris and Switzerland. Perhaps not typical summer locations, but with half the population of these places heading our way, they seem like good places to go.

Parked in Prague

"Parked in Prague"
(Prague, Czeck Republic)

No, we didn't spend our entire weekend in Prague sleeping on the grass, but I must admit, lazy days like this were very much the theme. Terry, Taryn, Nadja (from Munich), Jen (Terry's flatmate), Travis (an Australian living in London), Aff and I spent a fantastic weekend exploring this beautiful city. It truly is a remarkable place, and nothing at all like I expected. My general impression of Prague before going, was of an Eastern European city slowly openning itself up to the world. What I found was a surprisingly modern, yet impressively well preserved city .... and yes, with beer at genuine 1972 prices!

I do think Prague suffers a little bit from exagerated descriptions of it's beauty, but then again, I don't think I ever laid eyes on anything I would regard as particularly ugly (except perhaps the regular spotting of drunk English blokes on stag weekends). What truly made this trip enjoyable though, was the great bunch of people we were with. Very laid back and relaxed - just the way I like it.

I will hopefully get time to fill in more detail later .. for now, just some photos:

living or visiting ?

Life is pretty frantic at the moment. In fact, the last four weeks have been down right exhausting. Things are good, but much like Italian drivers, Aff and I could probably do with a slight easing of the foot off the accelerator. It's difficult though. We have 6 months (well, 4 months now) in this city. Since the moment we arrived here, I have realised that this is really quite an awkward time period. Is 6 months in a city considered "living" in it ? or is it just an extended visit. I think Aff and I both believed we were coming to Genova to live for 6 months, rather than just visit. I still think this is true, but I have since come to realise that with only 6 months here, perhaps the "visiting" mentality isn't such a bad thing either.

The biggest challenge I have faced is of course the language. It is difficult to live in Italy without the language, and if you are living here, then it is difficult to not feel obliged to learn it - and fair enough I guess. If you are visiting though, I don't think too many Italians would expect this, beyond perhaps a few basic phrases to buy milk, and get an all day bus ticket. So which category are Aff and I in ? When I arrived, my thoughts were, "I must learn the language if I am going to make friends with people here". When I mention this to Italians I have met, their first response is usually, "why? you are only here for 6 months". After hearing that response a few times, I realise that in the eyes of those who actually live here, I am very much a visitor.

While this might sound like something to be disappointed about, I have actually found releasing myself from this need to feel like I am living in Genova quite a weight off my shoulder. Much of the franticness of the last few weeks has been motivated mostly by my personal need to be meeting people and making as many friends as I can. In my mind, to say no, or not attend something is to risk missing an opportunity to get to know people better. Of course, this might be true, but why do I care so much if I am only here for 6 months anyway. Why do I need to be best mates with every single person I meet ? why do I feel like I need a best mate at all ... particularly if I am just visiting ? Even if I was living here, I doubt I would easily find this in my first 6 months.

This doesn't mean I shut up shop, and not talk to anyone. Nor does it mean I quit my language lessons. Both these things have been the most rewarding parts of my experience in Genova so far .. but also the most stressful. Perhaps viewing these things not so much as ends in themselves, but rather as bonuses along the way is the better way to go. Aff and I have many priorities to balance while we are here, and while our time here has been good so far, I think we have both probably sacrificed a few things in favour of learning the language, and constantly trying to make new friends .. the worst of these probably being spending time with each other, and just taking in where we are.

With four months to go, I am happy that I am starting to work these priority conflicts out now. I suspect life will always feel a bit frantic while we are here. Genova is a pretty frantic place. At least with some realistic perspectives on what it means to spend 6 months in a foreign city, I am starting to work out what I am actually here to do, and what really matters .. something that will probably also be useful to me when I get home as well.

Dees win first game of season - Genova goes wild!

"after nine rounds of dissapointment, Genovese fans errupt at the news of Melbourne's first win"

Piazza De Ferrari, Centro Genoa (taken 10/06/07)

As I stood watching this spontaneous street party errupt in Piazza Deferrari last night, I couldn't help but think that this may in fact be the closest I'll ever get to seeing the Melbourne colours, red and blue, being marched triumphantly down the main drag of my home town. Of course, the red and blue colours had nothing to do with the Melbourne Football Club, but rather, the triumphant promotion of the Genoa Football (i.e soccer) Club to Serie A in Italy's Lega Calcio.

No less than 5,000 people (according to this morning's paper) crowded into Piazza De Ferrari (more or less the city centre) to celebrate the fact that Genoa, after 12 years in "Serie B" (second division), have just been promoted to Serie A after a nill all draw with Napoli. This may not seem like a big deal, but in soccer mad Italia, if your not competing in the top division, your not really competing. Clearly the loyal Genovese fans were pretty happy to hear that next season, they will be competing again.

I must admit, I was quite oblivious to this event at the start of the day, although I did note a little more red and blue being worn around town than usual. It wasn't until the late afternoon, when I heard a sudden burst of beeping horns, and cheering, that I realised there was something going on. In a flash, I grabbed the camera, and went on the hunt. This is what I found:




Aff and I stuck around for almost 2 hours, and the party never really looked like stopping. We decided to leave when someone shot a firework rocket through the window of one of the adjacent buildings. The fire brigade arrived not long after, just as smoke started to pour out of the window. I truly haven't seen anything quite like it, and I can only imagine what it was like when Italy won the world cup.

Interestingly, the similiarity between the Genoa and Melbourne football clubs go further than their choice of colours. The full name of the Genovese soccer club is "The Genoa Cricket and Football Club", which was first established in 1893 by a bunch of poms living in Genoa at the time. Of course, the Melbourne football club also orginated from the MCC (Melbourne Cricket Club), and still holds close ties. It is also interesting to note that the Genoa Football Club uses the English spelling of Genova (i.e without the 'v'), again as a result of it's English roots.

Needless to say, with the red and blue colours, and now a place in the top division of one of the world's best soccer competitions, I have well and truly jumped aboard the good ship Genoa C.F.C. Of course, you can never really call yourself a fan until you buy a team flag, which I did:

Our new home ..

"Italian Mumma ... on speed"

Our apartment, Genova (taken 02/05/07)

Ciao! workplace

"Ciao!" from the left, "Ciao!" from the right. "Ciao!", at least once a minute. Welcome to the Italian work place. As I sit and work in a room of no less than 30 people, it's not hard to understand why. People come and go like bees in a hive, and every time this happens, there is an apparent need to signify the occasion with a communal ciao from all. As the newest of new in this strange new workplace, it is both comforting and intimidating to be immersed in this quite different work environment.

There is no doubt that the overwhelming majority of people are friendly, if a little stand-off-ish at first. With the language barrier as it is, much of the this feels somewhat impenetrable to me at the moment. Don't get me wrong, I receive my fair share of ciao's as well. I think there is a gradual warming to me happening, which makes me feel significantly more comfortable.

The impression I get is that this lab is pretty close, particularly the largish group of PhD students I find myself with. Almost all of them from somewhere else in Italy, many of them share houses together, and obviously socialise a lot together. They also seem to be about 5 years younger than me as well, which is no great problem, but there is no doubt that something happens in your late twenties that changes the focus from the "where will we go clubbing this Saturday" to, "this weekend I think I will purchase a basil plant for the window sill". I didn't say this of course.

The other major hurdle to jump in my early days of being in this strange new work place, is working out what the hell I am meant to be doing here. I have not had a chance as yet to talk to those who will be "mentoring" me while I am here. For now I feel fine with the lack of workload, but there is a growing anxiousness inside to work out some of these details, and get some of my many questions answered. I can ask those around me, and I do, but I would prefer to have someone actually show me what's what, rather than me have to annoy the person next to me with yet another mundane question, in English. Having a significant proportion of the eyes in the room on me when I ask it makes it feel all the more awkward.

Bare in mind, this is day three. In a week's time, I expect to have a significantly different impression of things, as I adjust, and have my many questions answered. Going with the flow looks like being the single greatest skill I will have to develop over these next 6 months. It's certainly been the case so far .. and so far .. so good.

Two years and still blogg'n

Just realised maccamusings has chalked up it's second year of existence today. To think I began this blog as a procrastinating student, in a new city, and in a new lab. Oh how far I have come as I sit here now, a procrastinating student, in another new city, and yes, in another new lab. I'll admit that posting has been more difficult these last 12 months due to time pressures, and at times, a lack of inspiration/motivation. Like most interests I indulge myself in, the motivation to write comes and goes. I must say, with all that is happening at the moment, motivation is high (and with no idea what I am working on as yet, my work load is low), so expect some more regular posting. I appreciate those who continue to check in on me from time to time, despite how ad hoc, un-polished and irregular my posts can be.